


Death's Little Master

by The_Books_Music_Life



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, The Walking Dead
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Badass Harry Potter, Blood and Gore, Consensual Underage Sex, Death is a little shit, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Swearing, Violence Against Walkers, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Books_Music_Life/pseuds/The_Books_Music_Life
Summary: This is a adopted story not everything is mine but most of the changes and later chapters are..Adopted from ThePeverellSeaWolfPlease do not post this story to other sites without my permission.





	1. Dead Men Walking

**Author's Note:**

> This is a adopted story not everything is mine but most of the changes and later chapters are..
> 
>  
> 
> Adopted from ThePeverellSeaWolf
> 
>  
> 
> Please do not post this story to other sites without my permission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Harry is betrayed and killed, he ends up in Death's realm. After getting the chance to live in the mortal world again, Harry is thrust into the Zombie apocalypse. As a kid. Where he meets Rick and the group. Will they find out the truth about him?

* * *

 

When Rick woke up the first thing that registered was the lack of noise. The normal background music of voices, footsteps, and beeping of any hospital were missing. Gone was the almost indecipherable buzz of electricity. It was as if the man-made world had suddenly died and stopped its constant humming. His throat was parched and he hoarsely called for a nurse. Forcing himself to turn he reached for the vase of flowers he had at one point remembered his partner bringing him.

The vase he reached for was empty with just a handful of dead flowers. Attempting to get off the bed, his legs couldn’t hold his weight and he collapsed to the floor groaning, he slowly sat up, looking down he sees the IV in the crook of his left arm; he slowly feels away the tape that held the needle in his arm and pulls it out. Grabbing the IV pole Rick pulls himself to his feet.

Walking into the small bathroom attached to the room, he shifts his weight from the IV pole to the sink turning the handle. The water that flowed from the faucet was a godsend for his parched throat. After drinking his fill he splashes water on his face; trying to wash away the feeling of grime and sweat. His face was coarse from the stubble that had begun growing while he was in his coma. Looking at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his eyes widen: his face was a little gaunt with slight bags under his eyes, and his hair was greasy from lack of washing. He wondered how long had passed since he’d been shot.

Judging from the stubble on his face he’d guessed the last time someone had shaved him was two maybe three weeks ago. That didn’t tell him how long he had been in the hospital for though, merely how long till whatever had happened, happened. He shakily grabbed the pole and slowly made his way back to the main room looking for something, anything that would give him an idea of what was going on. The only thing he saw was the dead machines, and flickering lights.

Rick slowly moved towards the door and twisted the knob pulling it open carefully. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on but he didn’t like it, and he didn’t want to be caught unawares by whatever it was. A gurney had been pushed in front of his door, and he surmised that it was most likely one of the reasons he hadn’t been discovered by whoever had turned the hospital into a third world war zone. Pushing the gurney aside he slowly made his way down the silent hallway; papers and blood littered the floor and bullet holes riddled the walls and doors. Given the silence and the fact that no one had known he was here for at least two weeks, Rick stayed quite incase whatever had done this was still here somewhere. He made his way slowly towards the nurse’s station leaning against his Iv pole for balance, and to help counteract the nausea and dizziness he was feeling.

The hallways were dark,the only light coming from the occasional flickering of an emergency hall light, leaving shadows in the nooks and crannies. Abandoning the IV pole for the counter of the nurses station, Rick felt around for the phone he knew would be kept there. He pulled the receiver up to his ear, moving to punch the buttons when he heard it. Silence. There was no dial tone. Whoever or whatever had done this had not only destroyed the hospital and cut the power but the phone lines as well. Running his shaking hand over the nurses side of the desk he searched for anything that he could use. His fingers grasped a small matchbox a nurse had likely confiscated from a patient. A buzzing noise caught his attention down the hall. He moved towards it leaning on the wall for balance, he could see one of the hospital’s emergency lights flickering.

The flickering of the light led him to a set of closed double doors, baring him from entering by a piece of wood shoved through the door handles. Puzzled, he peered into the flickering hallway and takes in the destruction. His eyes are drawn to the ground and what he sees makes him sick; the top half of a woman’s body is laying inside an open doorway. Swallowing thickly he recognizes the face of the woman, Candice, a nurse who had helped the doctor with Carl’s cast when he was seven and jumped from the shed’s roof trying to be Superman.

He backs away quickly stumbling a little as he moves down the opposite hallway towards the cafeteria. His mind was racing as he passes more blood pooled on the floor and sprayed on the walls, bullet holes marring the walls and a hole in the roof were it had most likely collapsed. Upon reaching the closed cafeteria doors Rick was taken aback at what he saw. The doors were chained shut, a padlock locking them together, a wooden board had been shoved between the handles also. But it was the words spray painted across the door that shocked Rick, ‘Do Not Open, Dead Inside.’ His eyes widened and he took a step back, tripping over his feet he landed hard on his ass and watched as the doors started straining against the chains, groans and snarls accompanied the slightly decaying fingers pushing through the crack the board and chain allowed. As the groaning got louder he stumbled to his feet and backing away he pushed through a set of doors to his right, rushing past the elevators he slammed into the door proclaiming ‘Stairs’.

He stood panting in a pitch black stairwell as the door slammed shut behind him. Fumbling he opened the matchbox and quickly swiped the head against the box, it took a few tries but finally a small flame flickered to life. Now that he could somewhat see he listened for anymore of that groaning. Hearing nothing he made his way slowly down the stairs gripping the rail to keep from falling. He went through three matches before he found what he hoped was the exit. Pushing the door open sunlight immediately blinds him, raising his arm up he tries to block some of the brightness. Moving down the metal stairs he lets his arm drop as his eyes slowly adjust to the brightness. He wishes they hadn’t a moment later.

The back lot of the hospital was covered with a hundred or more bodies, all covered with white sheets, flies buzzing around them. The only sound he hears are the flies and his own ragged breathing. Whatever had caused all this looks to have affected the whole town which means Lori and Carl might be hurt or in trouble somewhere. Slowly he made his way through the bodies and out of the back lot of the hospital and half crawling, he crests the hill leading to what used to be the staff parking lot, but is what now looks like a destroyed camp the military had tried to put together; helicopters, tents, and cars lay abandoned like the people using them just disappeared, he stumbles over and around pieces of broken wood, crates, metal barrels, and worst of all more body bags. The main road on the other side of the parking lot doesn’t look any better; cars crashed or left abandoned on the roads and sidewalks, their doors wide open. The further he walked the more cars were crashed or left behind, storefront windows busted and what looked like looted goods discarded on the ground.

Rick couldn’t help but feel like he was the last man in the whole town. He looked around and watched carefully for any movement, his ingrained police instincts began kicking in, even in his foggy and panicked state. Some part of him-that wasn’t pushed down by the panic of making sure his wife and kid were okay-knew that he was in danger the longer he stayed out in the open. Scanning around his eyes landed on a rusted red bicycle laying in the grass, crossing to it he quickly stood it upright and that’s when he saw it. Movement out of the corner of his eye, turning his head he flailed backward, stumbling over the bike and falling hard on his back leaning on his elbows he quickly lock eyes on the…thing. Two feet in front of him is a decomposing top half of a body, and it’s moving. Arms reaching out toward him snarling as it tries to crawl toward him, as his eyes take in what his brain is refusing to believe, he sees its spine wiggling as it tries to move. Gagging he scrambles up grabs the bike and half jogging he jumps on and starts peddling.

Although rusted the bike moves easily enough, he would make it to his house quicker than if he was walking.

He can feel the adrenalin rushing through his veins as he arrives at his house. Dropping the bike he half crawls up the stairs and opens the door. As Rick searches the house calling Lori and Carl’s name he stupidly wonders why the door was left unlocked given the war zone the city has become. After finding no trace of anyone in his ransacked house he collapsed on the floor, sobbing. After a few moments he looks up doing a double take when he notices the albums were missing. Lori. She was the only one who would take their albums which meant she and Carl had gotten out. A sudden weight lifted itself from his shoulders and then slammed back down tenfold, If they weren’t here were where they? Where they okay?

Regaining his composure he moved back to the front door and closed it, he didn’t need anything sneaking up on him. He moved around the house filling a backpack he found in the hall closet with things he might need. The first aide kit was missing along with all the canned food, most likely pack by Lori before they left. Moving into his bedroom he searched the dresser for clothes. Packing a few pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, boxers, and a couple pair of socks. After changing out of his flimsy hospital gown and boxers, he moved to the nightstand and rummaged around looking for his personal side arm, finding it missing he went to check Lori’s side. She had probably moved it when he was in the hospital to feel safer. Opening the drawer he pulled the sheaf of papers that were on top out and found nothing underneath. She must have took it with them. He went to put the papers back when he glanced at the letter head; ‘Carson & Carson Divorce Attorney’ his body stiffened and with trembling hands he began looking them over. She had already signed them, along with her lawyer almost two week before he was shot. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, he knew their marriage was rocky but he hadn’t thought they were anywhere close to a divorce. As he sat there a memory suddenly sprang up: about a year ago he was on his way home from work when he saw her getting into her car at a nearby motel, when he asked her about it she had brushed him off saying a friend of her parents were in town and she stopped by to say hi. At the time he brushed the incident off but now he wasn’t so sure. He leapt to his feet when he remember the security camera he set up when a neighbors house was broken into. Swinging the door open he stepped out onto the small porch and grabbed the camera from its perch beside the door. He groaned and almost threw the camera when the dead battery icon appeared. Getting an idea he stepped back inside and went back to the bedroom, he prayed to whoever was listening that the laptop was still charged. Plugging the memory card in he waited to see what his computer would do.

“Thank you.” He gasped aloud when the laptop came on and showed the video files. As he watched and fast forwarded he didn’t see anything strange or out of the ordinary, when he almost missed it. Someone standing in the camera’s blind spot tilted it to face the yard instead of the door. Confused he continued watching a week later the same person moved the camera but was distracted halfway through, as Rick watched the scene unfold his confusion became hurt which quickly became anger at the evidence of his wife sleeping with his best friend. He slammed the laptop closed and stared at it for a few silent moments. After getting ahold of himself his mind went back to the issue at hand, locating Lori and Carl. He’d deal with Lori and the divorce papers later, remembering the papers he quickly retrieve and signed them before stuffing them inside his bag.

He made it halfway down the front steps of his house when he stopped. He realized he still had no idea what was happening, what had happened to the town, or were to go to look for his family. Dropping his bag he all but collapsed on the stairs head in his hands all the adrenaline, desperation, confusion and anger that kept him going was beginning to fade, and even sitting he was starting to feel dizzy.

He noticed a figure stumbling down the road, he was halfway stood up when when a man suddenly came up behind the figure and shot him in the head. Rick watched in horror as the figures-he now realized it was a man-head snapped forward as he crumbled to the ground at the same time as pain suddenly erupted in the back of his head and he fell landing on his side. Vision spotty and quickly going black he saw a young boy’s face look down at him with wide brown eyes.

“Carl?” He mumbled deliriously before he passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

When Rick came to it was with a slight headache, his shoulder however felt better, cleaner. Looking around he saw he was in a bedroom, the window’s covered with blankets and wooden boards so the light couldn’t get in or out. Candle flames flickered making shadows dance across the room.

“Awake then?” Asked a bald black man as he entered the room. Rick tried to sit up but his wrists were tied to the bed frame. “Got that bandage changed out. It was pretty rank,” the stranger said as he walked over towards him. Rick saw the gun strapped to his hip. “What was it from?”

“Gunshot.” Rick croaked.

“Gunshot? Anything else?” He replied as he came to a stop beside the bed.

“What, gettin' shot isn’t enough?”

“Look I asked you a question common curtesy is to answer, right? Now answer the question. Did you get bit?”

“Bit?” Rick repeated confused.

“Bit, chewed, scratched anything like that?” He asked.

“No I got shot. Just shot as far as I know,” Rick answered. The man reaches a hand towards him and Rick flinches.

“Hey man, just let me.” He chides gently and touches the back of his hand to Rick’s forehead. “Feels cool enough,” he pulls out a switchblade. “Fever would have killed you by now.” He continued as he cuts the rope binding Rick to the bed. “Come on out when you’re able.” The stranger said as he left the room. Rick rolls on his side ignoring the throb it sends through his shoulder. He’s had the day from hell; waking up from a coma and finding his town destroyed along with dead bodies moving, finding out his wife cheated on him with his best friend. And on top of all that not knowing were his child was. With a sigh he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he noticed his shirt and jeans are missing leaving him in nothing but his grey boxers, he wraps the blanket around his mostly bare body as he leaves the room.

Stepping into a familiar living room he sees the man sitting at the table with his son.

“This place,” he pauses as he looks around at the bare room. The windows in the room are also covered with blankets and wooden boards. “Fred and Cindy Drake?” He questions.

“Never met them,” the stranger replies.

“This is their house, I’ve been here.”

“It was empty when we got here.” The man says spooning something into a bowl for his son. As Rick moves towards the covered window he reaches for the dark sheet covering it when a voice startles him.

“Don’t do that they’ll see the light. There’s more of them out there than usual. I never should’ve fired that shot.” The man shakes his head before adding for Rick’s benefit. “Sound draws em’. Now they’re all over the street.”

Rick turned to look at him as he remembered what happened before he was hit.

“You shot that man today,” Rick accused. The man shrugs as he asked somewhat rhetorically,

“Man?”

“Ain’t no man,” the kids says as his dad berates him before motioning for Rick to come eat. After his son says a blessing and they begin to eat they introduce themselves as Morgan and Duane Jones. After dinner the father and son sit on an air mattress while Rick leans against the wall as Morgan explains everything.

He’s in the middle of telling him about the safe zone the military set up in Atlanta when the doorknob started turning. Everyone tenses, creeping quietly to the door Rick looks out the peephole while Morgan tries and fails to calm a crying Duane. After reporting what he sees, a young black woman with messy hair in a white nightgown, Morgan goes on to tell him about his wife who died and came back.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning sees Morgan teaching Rick how to kill ‘walkers’ as he calls them. Before the three of them leave for the police station. Rick surprised the father and son with hot showers; the station had a back up gas generator that hadn’t been used. While waiting for Morgan and Duane to finish showering, Rick found his spare uniform he kept at the station. After Morgan had cut his clothes off looking for bites and scratches he let Rick borrow some of his clothes but it felt good to put on clothes that actually fit him. Bringing them to the gun locker he began splitting the guns and ammo between the two of them, Rick filled up one of the cruisers for himself while Morgan siphoned gas for his jeep before parting ways.

They each took a walkie promising to turn it on for a few minutes every day at dawn, to save power. Morgan and Duane were going to follow Rick to Atlanta in a few days.

 

* * *

 

 

Rick ran out of gas thirty miles from the city. Seeing a sign for a gas station about a half mile up the road he pulled over. Grabbing the gas canister and his duffel bag-he decided to stuff everything in the backpack into the duffle carrying the guns so it’d be less to carry.-Pulling down the visor he takes the picture of Lori, Carl and himself folding it so only himself and Carl are visible. Tucking the picture in his front shirt pocket, he sets off. As he gets closer to the station he sees the vehicles parked on the side of the road; some even on the grass going all around the station. He doubted that there would be any gas but it was worth a try.

The buzzing of flies and the smell of rot greeted him as he moved between cars. As suspected there was no gas and he didn’t have the tools to siphon any. He began making his way back through the cars when he heard the soft sound of shuffling feet, he stopped and listened, when the noise came again he dropped to the ground and peered under the car in the direction of the sound. There, a couple cars over were a pair of small feet in pink slippers. Getting to his feet he made his way around the cars, the little girl had her back to him and was shuffling away,

“Little girl? I’m a police officer, don’t be afraid okay. Little girl?” Rick coaxed in a low voice. He reached his hand out as if to touch her on the shoulder even though she was a couple feet ahead of him, when she turned around. The first thing he noticed was the right side of her mouth was torn, showing teeth. Stumbling back a step he reaches for the pistol on his hip as the little girl stumbles after him, groaning and gnashing her teeth. Bringing his gun up he remembered what Morgan said: it had to be the head, if you didn’t destroy the brain it kept coming. She picks up speed the closer she gets; raising the gun he shoots, the bullet throwing her head back as she falls to the ground, lifeless. Rick stares at her for a moment sadness blinding him.

He starts walking, backtracking a few miles to a farmhouse he had passed. The house looked abandoned as he walked up the unpaved driveway. Leaving his bag and gas canister on the porch steps he takes the hat he got from the police station off and knocks on the door. “Hello? I’m a police officer, can I borrow some gas?”

When there’s no answer he moved around the house toward a window, “Hello? Anybody home?” Unable to see anything from the windows on this side he goes to the other side and stops dead. This window looks into the living room, at the woman on the floor gunshot wound to the head and the man sitting on a recliner, shotgun under his chin. In blood on the wall above the man are the words ‘God Forgive Us.’

As he makes his way back to his stuff he sees a pick-up truck beside the house. Jogging over he searches for the keys. Not finding any he moves back toward the house when he hears the neighing of a horse.Seeing the horse he decides it would be better to ride it to Atlanta rather than drive, since he couldn’t find any gas. Opening the gate to the pasture he moves slowly towards the horse taking the rope on the fence with him. The horse watches Rick with untrusting eyes, it takes a step back.

“Easy now easy. I’m not gonna hurt you.” As he gets closer he slowly and gently loops the rope around its neck talking soothingly as he leads it to the barn.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later finds Rick on a two lane highway approaching the city. He rides over an overpass moving deeper and deeper into the city; looking around at all the cars, trash, and wreckage that has befallen Atlanta since this all happened. He notices a few walkers beginning to follow and urges the horse on, as they pass an abandoned and somewhat burned city bus.

“It’s just a few nothing we can’t outrun.” He’s not sure if he’s trying to reassure the horse or himself. As they turn onto another street they’re passes an abandoned tank when he hears it. Looking up he sees a helicopter reflected in the glass windows of a skyscraper. Kicking the horse’s flank he tries to follow it, turning down yet another street he freezes and feels his blood turn to ice in his veins. “Oh shit,” he breaths as the horse starts whining and backing up its eyes looking around fearfully. The entire street was filled with walkers. As they start to notice him he turns the horse around and flees. He gets to the abandoned tank when he sees the few stragglers that were following have turned into triple that. He’s blocked on both sides.

“Oh God, oh shit,” Rick swears breathlessly. He’s desperately trying to find an escape but it’s too late the dead had reached them. The horse starts to panic as walkers grab and pull at them, the frightened horse rears up and Rick is thrown backward, his duffle bag slipping off his shoulder during the fall. As Rick lands painfully on his back, the air knocked out of him, struggling to catch his breath and get up he kicks a walker that’s bending toward him and shoots a couple that got too close. Surrounded by the ones not interested in the feeding frenzy that fell atop the horse he quickly scrambles under the tank, hoping to escape on the other hopefully less crowded side. As he crawls he’s grabbed by the ankle and shoots the walker that grabbed him. Checking the cylinder he sees only one bullet and walkers are now coming from both side of the tank, out of options he puts the revolver to his temple, _I will not turn into one of those things,_ is the last thought he has before he sees a head-a kids head looking at him and reaching out a hand. Quickly he pulls himself through the opening into the bottom of the tank and slams the door shut.

Catching his breath he looks over to his rescuer sitting in the corner as far from Rick as he can get in the small space. The boy is small and thin but not sickly so, he looks around Carl’s age making him eleven or twelve with short messy inky black hair, and the most stunning green eyes Rick has ever seen that are watching him wearily.

“Thank you,” he breaths trying to get his pounding heart to slow down. He settles himself beside the only other occupant, a dead soldier. Seeing the gun on the soldiers belt Rick reaches for it and that’s when the ‘dead’ soldiers eyes snap open, turns out he wasn’t as dead as he had thought. Bringing his own gun up he fires, using his last bullet to put a hole through the now dead soldiers head.

The sound of the shot echos throughout the small tank making Rick and the boy dizzy and deaf. After a few moments the ringing had somewhat stopped and he hears the crackle of a radio.

“Hey dumbass. Yeah you in the tank, cozy in there?” A male voice asks from the radio. Rick looks incredulous at the radio then at the kid, who’s eyebrow is raised before he moves to grab the radio.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 9-23-19
> 
>  
> 
> I'm going through and reworking the existing chapters to make them better so some things will have changed.


	2. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's life before he met Death and the Walking Dead gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly, Ron and Ginny bashing with slight Dumbledore and Seamus bashing. 
> 
> I love the characters but this helps Harry get to were he needs to be.

                                                                                               

                                                                             

 

* * *

                                                                             In another reality two hundred years previous:

 

 

The memorial service was beautiful, it always was but Harry wanted nothing more than to leave. He liked to mourn for those they lost in private, but every year for the past fifteen years he was asked to give a speech. At this point he had started pulling pieces from previous speeches and reusing them. No one had called him out on it yet, but he didn’t expect that to last long before Hermione caught on. After the Ceremony, Harry headed to the cemetery near Spinner’s End same as he did every year while Ginny took their kids to grandma and grandpa Weasley’s. They did this ritual every year: Harry would visit Snape’s grave before heading to the Burrow for dinner, Ginny had stopped asking why he went, she never understood his answer.

He knew that if Snape ever found out he did this the ex-potions master would haunt him for as long as he lived. _Hell, probably even when he died,_ he thought ruefully. But he did it every year anyway; no one understood-save Hermione-why Harry respected the man after everything he had done. The way he saw it; was that even though Snape had despised his father and himself, he was in love with his mum and felt guilty for his part in her death, so-with great risk to himself-turned on Voldemort and tried to keep Harry safe as a way to make it up to her. He understood why Snape did the things he did, he even fought with Ginny for months to name their second child after him. Harry stayed for about an hour mostly silent, he eventually started talking and told him the stuff that had happened throughout the year since his last visit.

After saying his goodbyes he disapparated to the Burrow, landing in the quiet backyard. He saw that the long picnic table was set up so they could eat in the late June sun.

“Harry dear, can you go tell everyone that dinner is ready? They’re playing Quidditch in the field.” Asks Molly Weasley as she wipes her flower covered hands on her pink flower apron.

“No problem Molly,” Harry smiles and gives her a quick hug before heading off on the well worn path to the field at the end of the Weasley’s property. After a 15 minute walk he arrives at the large field and instead of interrupting decides to watch for a few minutes.

His eyes widen slightly as he watches Teddy fly circles around Ginny. Either she was losing her touch-which he doubted-or Teddy was getting better; Ginny had played for the Holyhead Harpies for six years, before a blunger to the knee put her out of professional playing. She started being a stay at home mom even though all the kids were in Hogwarts now, Lily had started this past year. He let out a sharp high whistle to get their attention.

“Dad!” James and Albus yelled when they landed.

“Uncle Harry!” Victorie, Teddy, and little Fred called out.

“Lo’ kids, it’s dinner time,” he said smiling at the wind blown children who, as soon as the word ‘dinner’ passed Harry’s lips dropped their brooms and took off running towards the house. Harry managed to ruffle Albus’ hair as he raced past.

Ron and Ginny landed beside him, dismounting from their brooms. Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss, as Ron pulled his wand out and sent the discarded brooms to the shed.

They stayed late at the Burrow, everyone talking and enjoying the warm summer night as a family, before they headed home at around ten when Lily finally tuckered out.

 

* * *

 

 

Much too quickly the summer was over and the kids were heading back to Hogwarts. Harry had been pulling late nights in the Department of Mysteries for a few weeks, but had made plans to come home early and surprise Ginny, since all three kids were now in Hogwarts they had the house all to themselves. He stopped at the grocers on his way home so he could get some stuff for dinner. He decided to pick up some roses as well.

Apparating home, he made his way into the house and unload the shopping bags on the kitchen island. Not soon after they got married Ginny and himself had completely fixed up and redecorated number Twelve Grimmauld Place, now it was more open and welcoming. Freed from his burden he started upstairs to their bedroom, he wanted a change of clothes and maybe a shower before he started cooking. He was starting to wonder if Ginny was even home she usually would’ve heard him by now; he was halfway up the stairs when he heard voices. _Hermione probably came for a visit_ he thought, as he continued up the stairs. He automatically skipped the third step from the top out of habit since it creaked.

The door to their bedroom was partly open, he was reaching to push it open when he froze.

What he saw through the small gap of the partially open door, turned his blood turn to ice in his veins. He forced his Gryffindor brashness-that demanded he burst inside curses flying-aside, but instead he leaned against the wall and took a couple deep breaths, trying in vain to ignore the sounds coming from the bedroom. When the moans finally stopped the only sound was the ragged breathing of the couple in the room and Harry’s own furious heartbeat.

“What time will he be home Ginny?” A voice Harry knew well asked. He _had_ lived with its owner for seven years.

“He’s always late Seamus, tonight will be no different,” Ginny reassured her lover. “In fact, I bet we even have time for another round.” He couldn’t listen anymore. Rushing down the stairs he quickly left the house and its wards, without even thinking he apparated; not realizing where he was until he collapsed to his knees on a familiar foyer floor.

“Mr. Potter, perhaps you could explain to me exactly _how_ you managed to punch through my wards and enter my home?” A silky voice asked. Harry looked up into the cool silver eyes of Lucius Malfoy. He knew his own green eyes were watery but he fought in vain to cover it up.

“I-I didn’t mean, I just. Ginny and…I didn’t know…why-was any of it real?” Harry rambled between the sobs that poured out of him. He hated, _hated_ to cry in front of anyone let alone Lucius Malfoy; Harry and the Malfoy family were on cordial terms ever since he and Hermione had testified in favor of Lucius and Draco after the war. They ended up going to Azkaban-made a hell of a lot better with the Dementors gone-but Harry and Hermione’s testimony had dropped their sentences down from years to a few months.

He was brought from his thoughts by Narcissa bending down beside him. He didn’t even know she was there, looking behind her he saw a slightly uncomfortable looking Lucius standing beside Draco and his wife Astoria. He was drawn into a surprisingly warm hug from Narcissa and he somewhat hesitantly hugged her back, he heard footsteps leaving the room. When she pulled back Harry saw the sadness in her eyes- _it was for him,_ he realized with shock.

“Come, you look as though you need tea,” She gave him a piercing look. “Or perhaps something stronger.”

As he stood she led him from the front foyer and into a small sitting room, were Lucius, Draco, and Astoria were already sitting.

“Thank you Mrs. Malfoy, I apologies for coming into your home unannounced. When I apparated,” Harry sighed as he continued, “I had no place in mind, I’m not even sure why I ended up here to be honest.”

Astoria’s gasp made Harry look up from the glass of bourbon a house elf handed him.

“You realize how incredibly dangerous that was. You could have splintered or worse!”

Harry chuckled, a hollow sound even to his ears. “Yeah, I just, didn’t particularly care if I would get hurt, I just needed to leave before I did something stupid.”

“May I ask what happened?” Astoria asked gently as she came to sit on his uninhabited side.

With a weary sigh he explained. “Things have been busy at work lately; I’ve been working more and coming home late. Today I figured, since the kids were at school and the house was empty I’d come home early and surprise her with dinner.”

Draco gave a sharp intake of breath, already knowing what happened without him having to say it. He nodded at his once enemy as he confirmed for the others present. “I found her in bed with someone.”

“Oh dear.” Narcissa said in disbelief. Harry gave her a sad wry smile, swiping a tear that escaped.

“Yeah,” he breathed his voice cracking slightly. Clearing his throat he shook his head, “And now I’m questioning everything. I mean, besides the hair James looks nothing like me neither does Lily, but I’ve always brushed it off as my grandparents or the Weasley gene being more dominate. Only Albus is able to speak Parseltongue. It just makes me wonder how long her affair had been going on and if they’re-“ He broke off unable to finish his sentence.

“Gringotts,” Lucius declared.

Harry looked at him in confusion.

“Get up. We are going to Gringotts.” Lucius stated as a house elf arrived holding two robes out to the father and son.

“I don’t understand,” Harry frowned.

“You say you have doubts, the goblins can help confirm or deny those doubts. They are the only ones able to perform the ritual to view a family tree.” He explained further. “It’s a mixture of runic and goblin magic, and the goblins tend to keep their secrets so only goblins can preform it.”

Nodding Harry stood and followed father and son towards the fireplace as they each flooed to the bank.

 

* * *

 

 

Two hours later found Harry, Lucius, and Draco leaving the bank. He had created a new will, leaving money for James and Lily’s schooling and future before he split the Potter and Black fortune between Albus-who turned out to be his only biological child-and his godson Teddy. He also marked Albus as his heir, he then left Albus and Teddy’s guardianship to Draco and Astoria-who were very surprised, but Harry saw how they were raising Scorpius and believed them to be good parents-incase of his untimely death. He disavowed James and Lily as direct Potters and declared them bastards so they could keep his name-if they chose.-On top of everything else; he had also learned that Ginny had been feeding him love potions since Hogwarts, with the potions flushed from his system thanks to the goblins he felt…free.

He had never been one to mess with his finances, leaving it to the goblins and then Ginny after they married. The goblins had informed him that not only had she been paid from his accounts since the year she started Hogwarts, but so had Molly and Ron. All of it orchestrated by one Albus Dumbledore. Harry had never felt so betrayed in all his life, his mentor had dictated his life since he was a baby and had stolen from him. Thankfully none of the other Weasley’s or Hermione were involved, seems they were as oblivious as he was. He dissolved his sham of a marriage, and arranged for the goblins to have the Daily Prophet run the evidence the affair and financial scandal the next day.

“You can stay the night at the manor if you’d life.” Draco offered. Although they were cordial to each other after the Death Eater trials, they hadn’t spoken to each other often. Draco worked with his wife at St. Mungo’s and Harry was a class four unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries so their jobs didn’t cross all that often. He thought about it for a minute before he agreed.

“Thanks, I think I’ll take you up on your offer.” He knew it would be a bad idea to go home tonight and he really didn’t want to stay in a motel.

“Perhaps we shall get something to eat at the Leaky Cauldron? You must be famished Mr. Potter.” Lucius said.

Until Lucius brought it up Harry hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. His stomach let out a loud gurgle at the mention of food causing him to blush.

“That sounds wonderful, I haven’t eaten since my lunch break,” he paused before adding. “Could we make a stop at the post before we eat? I want to write the kids a letter; I don’t want them to hear about this from the paper.”

Stopping at the small post in Diagon Alley he wrote James, Lily, and Albus each a letter. He wanted James and Lily to know that even though he wasn’t their biological father he did raise them and love them like his own, and this wouldn’t change how he felt about them. He knew Albus would still treat them as his siblings, but he didn’t want the weasel bitch to try and manipulate them for her own gain. He only wished he could tell them in person.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry woke with a raging headache the next morning. He blearily looked at the way to chipper house elf that had woken him up, he fumbled for him glasses when they suddenly appeared in front of him. “Thank you.” He yawed to the elf.

“Mister Harry Potter sir, Mistress asks Lumi to get you for breakfast,” Lumi says, her big grey ears flapping as she nods her head. Groaning he sits up, and promptly slumps back onto the bed hands covering his glasses as he ties to keep his head from escaping.

Remembering the elf he says, “I’ll be down after I shower.“ As the elf disappears Harry considers staying in his nice warm bed. After a few minutes he grudgingly gets out of the warm bed and after the room stops spinning and his stomach settles, he heads into the adjoining bathroom.

Eventually he found his way down to the dinning room, the pounding headache and nausea a reminder as to why he doesn’t like to drink. The Malfoy family was already seated, Draco and Lucius looking how he felt. He gingerly sat in the chair beside Draco who had his head in his hands and looked dead.

“So,” Harry began awkwardly, “What the hell happened last night?”

“Apparently three bottles of Fire Whiskey and a bottle of father’s best Cognac. Or so mother and Astoria says,” Draco answered looking green.

“Please tell me you have a hangover potion?” Harry did not whimper.

“For you Harry, yes,” Narcissa smiled placing a small vial by his plate. “Your intoxication was at least warranted. Draco and Lucius however have no such excuse.”

Harry gulped down the bitter tasting potion as Lucius mumbled something about how it was rude to let someone drink alone. Leaning over to Draco he whispered, “Do you remember anything after dinner at the Leaky?” Draco shook his head, hissing at the pain it must have caused. Harry saw Astoria slip a vial to Draco and Lucius when Narcissa’s back was turned.

 

* * *

 

 

After breakfast, Harry thanked the Malfoy’s for their kindness and generosity, before flowing back to Grimmauld Place. No one was home when he arrived but the Daily Prophet and a spilt cup of tea alerted Harry that Ginny had read the paper. Picking up the paper he saw the headline ‘CHEATINGSCANDAL ROCKED HARRY POTTER’S WORLD’ the article went on to describe Ginevra Potter’s affair with Seamus Finnigan and how she had passed two of his kids off as Harry’s. It also told of the financial exploits of the guilty Weasley’s and Albus Dumbledore. Thankfully the paper hadn’t blamed or said anything about the children, just stating they were victims of circumstance. He smiled at the well detailed and completely true article, exiting the house he apparated to the Burrow, he knew everyone would be gathered there.

He arrived to chaos. He could hear people shouting and arguing from outside, it got louder as he made his way down the hall. Everything went silent when Harry walked into the kitchen. He gave Ginny a disgusted look. “Oh don’t stop on my account,” He said as he gazed around the room. Bill was sitting beside Percy and his pregnant wife Audrey, Arthur sat at the head of the table index fingers massaging his temple. George stood to the side of his father arms crossed as he starred at the paper, Hermione was on Audrey’s other side glaring at Molly, Ginny, Ron, and Seamus who were standing together on the other side of the table. Only ones missing were Charlie-since he was in Romania-,Bill’s wife Fleur who was having a hard pregnancy and Angelina who was home with her and George’s kids. A single copy of the Daily Prophet sat in the middle of the table.

After a few moments of silence Harry spoke.

“Did it feel good mate?” He asked pinning his green eyes to Seamus, “Sleeping with another mans wife? That same man raising your kids? I mean if they even are yours; who knows how many people she’s whored around with.” Harry felt a perverse sense of pride when Seamus wouldn’t meet his eyes. Turning to his now ex-wife he sneered, “I found out about the love potions, I mean I get why you did it.” Harry’s voice turned hard. “I would never, _never_ have looked at you if you didn’t. Red headed skank isn’t my type.”

“Hey-“ Ron started to snap but was stopped by Hermione.

“What Ronald? What can you possibly say, she slept with everyone in Hogwarts!”

He turned his attention to Molly who was slowly turning the same shade of red as her son. “You were like a mother to me, was it only for the fame and press that came with knowing ‘the boy who lived’? Or was it only cause you were getting paid? With my money!” He yelled making a couple people jump. “And you,” he growled turning to Ron who had the audacity to look angry. “You were my best friend, the first friend I ever had! But only for the money and fame right?” Harry shook his head in disgust, “You disgust me-hell you disgust everyone! The only reason you had friends was because of me, the only reason you graduated from Hogwarts was cause of Hermione, who you never deserved.” With everything off his chest he felt..lighter, freer. The guilty party were red faced from embarrassment and fury. He fought a laugh back from proud looks on George and Hermione’s faces.

With a deep breath Harry looked at each of them and said calmly, “You’re nothing but a gold digging bitch, a fame seeking whore, a jealous nobody, and the second choice.”

Then all hell broke loose.

It was only his Unspeakable training and his fighting during the war that helped him dodge the first volley of spells that came his way. As spells flashed across the small kitchen he saw Percy go down by a stray hex as he pushed his wife under the table. Harry quickly sent a Sectumsempra at Ginny who was getting ready to send a Confringo hex at Hermione who’s back was turned. Ginny dodged his spell making it hit Molly instead, Hermione quickly sent a stunner at Ginny putting her out of the fight. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bill and Arthur go down from a hex by Seamus; he was too late to warn Hermione when a revived Ginny knocked her into the wall with a hex. He sent a variety of spell toward Molly and Ron, he was distracted as he dodged a hex from Molly that he didn’t see the bone breaker hex that Ron sent his way. It hit his left knee with a sicking crack, shouting in pain he rolled away from a Sectumsempra: unfortunately this put him right at Seamus’ feet, he had no chance to dodge or raise his wand when Seamus sent an Avada Kedavra straight at his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on 10-2-19


	3. Strange Happenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV after he dies.

 

 

When Harry opened his eyes it was to darkness, jerking upright he quickly scanned the dark space around him. Confused he stood up slowly and looked around more carefully, he knew he was dead but this was different than the first time he’d died; when Voldemort had killed him he had woken up in a blindingly white King’s Cross Station with his loved ones. But as he looked around the small dark room he was in he knew that wasn't the case this time. He couldn’t tell where the room began or ended: the walls were a dark slate grey color that seemed to make the shadows- _how was there even shadows there was nothing in the room to make shadows_ -darker, the floor was black or a very dark brown, he couldn’t tell. Turning he saw the only thing of color in the entire room was the white cot he had woken up on.

“Master, welcome,” a raspy voice said.

Harry jumped and spun around to find a figure standing in a doorway he knew wasn’t there a minute ago. He couldn’t see the figure all that well since the dull light from the the room beyond cast the figure in shadow, but what he could see however was that the figure was tall and looked to be cloaked in a black robe that floated like black gas around him.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“I am called many names Master, but you would know of me as Death. I welcome you to my realm.”

Harry stared at the figure who claimed to be Death, he knew he should be afraid but he was already dead. What more could Death to?

“Why am I here? Why are you calling me Master?” He demanded. Death approached him slowly, not making a sound as he glided along the floor. He reached out a cloaked hand and laid it gently on Harry’s shoulder as he led him from the dark room.

“You are here because this is where you are supposed to be,” Death answered as he led them down a candle lit hallway. “And why should I call you anything but your title? You are my Master just as you were meant to be.”

“But how-ah bloody hell,” he broke off when it hit him. He didn’t even realize he stopped walking and now stood in the middle of the candle lit hall as his thoughts went wild.

“That was fifteen years ago! I broke the wand, destroyed the stone, not to mention I haven’t touched the cloak in years.” He protested pinching the bridge of his nose. _Was is possible to get a headache if you’re already dead?_ He wondered briefly before he froze for an entirely new reason, he couldn’t feel his glasses. Where were his glasses? And more importantly, how could he see looking up he saw Death facing him.

“Were are my glasses and how can I see without them?” He demanded his voice slightly shrill. A lot was happening okay, he was allowed a minute.

Death just stared at him, though Harry couldn’t really tell cause his hood cast his whole face in darkness, _oh god I hope he has a face,_ he suddenly thought.

Death was quiet for a long couple of seconds before he finally spoke. “You are dead. You don’t need glasses to see, just as that curse to your knee doesn’t affect you anymore.” He spoke slowly, like he was talking to a hysterical child. Which okay fair but Harry still wanted to hit him. It wasn’t his fault everything was different this time, plus he was still reeling from the knowledge that being the ‘Master of Death’ for half an hour, fifteen years ago apparently made him the Master of Death forever. He realized with a jolt that Death had started walking and talking again and hurried to catch up.

“-Master for a single night,” he continued as if Harry hadn’t gotten them off track worrying about his glasses. “You used each of my Hallows. The cloak when you entered the forest, the stone to see your family, and finally you’re claiming of my wand in the midst of your duel; making its power void against you. At that moment you had all three of my Hallows together, thus making you the Master of Death.”

His mind was spinning with information and questions. “So what does that mean exactly? I’m stuck here? Cause I’ve always hoped that when I died I would be at peace with my family.” He confided.

“You are my Master but the title is but a formality, for now. You are mine to care for; I am afraid that you cannot pass on, your soul belongs here, with me. But I can and will allow you visitation with your family.” Death offered.

Harry hadn’t realized they’d come to the end of the hallway until Death opened the huge oak door at the end. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this; the study had dark hardwood flooring, the walls paneled mahogany. There was no windows but gold candle wall sconces lit the room with a cozy glow; in the corner were two comfortable looking black chairs turned slightly to face each other, a rounded end table placed between them held a beautiful Tiffany lamp. A large patterned rug the color of blood completes the look; directly behind the chairs stretches huge, floor to ceiling mahogany corner bookshelves filled with books, the rest of the walls were decorated with famous artwork. There was a large oak desk at the end of the medium sized room filled with-of all things-paperwork. Tearing his gaze from the stunning room he sees that Death had seated himself in one of the black chairs, and with a wave of his hand Harry sat beside him.

“I thought you might be more comfortable here,” Death said, nodding for Harry to continue.

Oddly touched by this he takes a minute to get his thoughts in order before asking.

“What do you mean you’ll take care of me? What am I supposed to do here?”

“It means I will provide you with anything and everything you desire. What you want to learn, you shall learn, whatever you wish to do, you shall do. But you will remain with me, for this is were you belong.” Death said.

“Anything?” Harry asked.

“Anything.” Death whispered, pressing a cold cloaked hand on top of Harry’s hand.

 

* * *

 

 

**Death’s Realm: Two Centuries Later**

 

 

Harry and Death had developed a close relationship, Death becoming something akin to the protective older brother/father Harry never had. He learned many things in his time with Death, ranging everywhere from cooking and survival, to music, languages, and blacksmithing, among many others. He had developed a strong interest in martial arts and weaponry. He was now a black belt in karate, jujitsu, and Krav Maga. He had even asked Death to help with him with his Occlumency and Legilimency during his first couple of months with Death. He was able to do both before he died but never very well. He mastered windless magic to the point were he no longer needed spells or his wand-he still kept it for sentimental reasons-merely his will to direct what he wanted.

Harry had made himself a beautiful katana to use in his study of Kenjutsu: a form of martial arts that focuses on sword fighting techniques. The blade was made of a magically strengthened black carbon steel with a black leather guard grip and a simple black leather over the chest sheath. He also made himself a full set of six matching 8 inch throwing knives made of the same black carbon steel with black leather handles. His stunning pin point accuracy came from almost two hundred years of practice and experience.

Apart from blacksmithing and martial arts he developed a love of drawing. Since his two centuries with Death his memories of his human life had begun to fade, so he enjoyed drawing some of his happier memories and people he didn’t want to forget. He also wrote some of his favorite memories and story’s from the wizarding world down in the sketchbook Death had gotten for him. Harry had become a selective mute during his time with Death, often using his drawings to speak for him on his bad days. He vaguely remembered going mute for days and even weeks at a time during his childhood; Death thought it had a lot to do with how Harry was raised and abused by the Dursley’s. Death had noticed Harry went mute when he was uncomfortable or he remembered something he would rather forget.

He had begun carrying around the sketchbook Death gave him, having charmed it to be never ending-and if he tore a page out, a clean one would appear in its place-a set of charcoal pencils-also charmed-. Sometimes he would just stop in the midst of whatever he was doing to sketch.

He was in the middle of sketching Hogwarts during Christmas when Death approached,

 _“Harry.”_ Death’s raspy voice in his head startled him, causing him to jump. He sat beside Harry on the plush black leather couch in the living room-Death had told him that first day, that the doors in the hallway could lead to any room you wanted. You just had to think of the room and open the door, or if Harry couldn't find him to just think of him and the room he was in would appear.

Looking up from his drawing he smiled at Death, who’s hood was off letting Harry see his white skull head. After Harry had seen his uncle Vernon’s spirit when the man had died 10 years into his stay, he’d went mute and hadn’t spoken for going on 20 years now; so Death had taken to speaking telepathically with Harry. He still wasn’t used to it. He had taken the form of his eleven year old self after the first year in Death’s realm. He found himself more comfortable being taken care of by Death in this form, not to mention he hadn’t experienced a pleasant childhood and sought to fix it. Harry leaned into Death and in return Death embraced the man in the child’s body. He watched Harry draw for a few minutes before sighing and sitting up straight.

 _“My little Master, I have noticed something recently,”_ Death confessed in Harry’s mind.

Confused he turned to face him and raised a black eyebrow in question. _“Lately your soul has..for lack of a better term, begun to fracture. Although you are my Master and belong here your body has held onto your human soul.”_ Seeing Harry’s confused frown Death explained, _“A human body has two souls, one soul for the mortal realm, another for when you die and pass on. You see when a person dies, the living soul disappears, I am afraid I do not know where it goes, perhaps it stays in the living world, perhaps it moves on, I do not know. But when you died little Master you're body held onto both souls. The human soul was not meant to remain in my realm for as long as you have.”_

 _“What does that mean for me?”_ Harry asked. He wasn’t afraid to admit this worried him.

 _“I can either take your living human soul, by turning you into a Grim Reaper for a period of time. Which is something I am not amenable with; or I can let you leave, by temporarily restoring you to mortal life, which should heal the fracture in your living soul and, when you return to me the living soul should leave as it was supposed to do.”_ Death finished gravely.

 _“I assume this is a decision where I really have no choice?”_ He snarks lightly.

The uncloaked skeleton nods. _“I’m afraid you can’t return to your old life. I will be sending you to a completely new world.”_

 _“Tell me about the world you’re going to drop me in then.”_ Harry demands.

 

* * *

 

**A Week and a Half Later**

 

 

Harry was going to slap Death so hard his skull would fall off. The asshole had dumped him in a world were the dead walked and ate the living. When Harry had demanded to know about the world, _that_ should have been the first thing he said but no; all Death said was he was going to Atlanta, Georgia. Death had an even more morbid sense of humor than Harry had originally thought cause Death had left him in his eleven year old body. He had been here for over a week and he still couldn’t get used to the smell of rotting flesh. The only good thing about this whole thing was Death had sent him down with his katana-strapped to his back-and his throwing knives-which he had stashed thought his person-.

Harry honestly thought Death was enjoying this just a little too much, if his outfit was any indication. He was dressed in a pair of black combat hiking boots, black and grey cargo pants, and a black t-shirt with ‘whatever doesn’t kill you disappoints me,’ written on it; another form of Death’s humor he guessed. He had a large black backpack slung on his shoulder.

He had just finished raiding a small convenience store in downtown Atlanta, when a couple of the walkers-he thought the name fit-spotted him which meant even more soon spotted him. Forcing him to hide out in an abandoned tank with a dead-he hoped it was dead-soldier. He knew it was stupid to go into Atlanta, everyone left alive knew the city belonged to the dead now. But he was running low on stuff and the store didn’t have many dead around it. After a few minutes in the tank he was about to look and see if the small herd had left when he heard it, the sound of a horse neighing. Confused he wondered how the hell a horse had gotten into the city, let alone unnoticed. Not long after he heard the horse he heard gunshots. Groaning internally he lifted the hatch that led to underneath the tank, and was about to climb out when he saw a person directly under the hatch put a gun to their head; eyes widening he quickly stuck his head and one arm out startling the man. He backed up so the man could haul himself inside slamming the hatch behind him.

With his back against the wall he watched the cop wearily. Well he hoped he was a cop and that he didn’t just steal the outfit. He remained silent when the cop breathes out a thank you. After catching his breath the cop reaches for the gun on the dead soldiers hip, when of course the dead man ‘wakes’ up. Harry started to shake his head knowing what the cop was about to do but it was too late. The gunshot echoing in the small tank made him jump, ears ringing Harry shot a halfhearted glare at the cop, he was too dizzy to do more.

At first he thought he’d imagined it, the ringing in his ears had faded, but his head still hurt something fierce. When he heard it again though he looked around and his gaze  landed on the radio when it crackled again.

“Hey dumbass. Yeah you in the tank, cozy in there?” A voice asked. Harry looked toward the man eyebrow raised. The cop hurriedly moved toward the radio to answer.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 10-12-19


	4. That Saving People Thing

 

 

 

 

Radio in hand the man is about to press the button to speak when it crackles again, “Hey, are you alive in there?” The sudden sound of the voice startles the cop making him jump and bang his head on the shelf above the radio. _Ooh thats gotta hurt,_ Harry grimaces. Muttering a curse Harry couldn’t hear the cop rubs his head as he answers.

“Hello? Hello?”

“There you are, you had me wondering.” After a slight pause the voice continues. “What the hell where you thinking shooting up the streets like that?”

Harry was wondering the same thing. How the hell could a man dressed as a cop be stupid enough to ride a horse into the middle of walker city. Not to mention go popping off shots like he did.

“Where are you? Outside? Can you see us right now?” The cop asks hurriedly ignoring that last part.

“Yeah, I can see you. You’re surrounded by geeks that’s the bad news,”

“There’s good news?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm. He kept sneaking not so subtle looks over at Harry and it was really starting to annoy him. He was just about flip him off- _god he’d spent too much time with Death_ -when the radio crackled and the voice said a curt no.

“Listen, whoever you are. I don’t mind telling you that I’m a little concerned in here,” he could defiantly detect the edge to the cops voice.

“Oh man, you should see it from here. You’d be having a major freakout.”

“Got any advice for us?” The cop questions.

“Yeah I’d say make a run for it,” radio man says likes its no big deal.

“That’s it? Make a run for it?” The cop scoffs.

“My way’s not as dumb as it sounds. You’ve got eyes on the outside here, there’s one geek still up on the tank but the others have climbed down and joined the..feeding frenzy where the horse went down.” At the reminder of the horse Harry scowls at him, _poor horse didn’t have to die like that._

“You with me so far?” The voice questions while dumbass- _he’s mad about the horse okay_ -looks over and sees Harry glaring at him.

“So far,” he responds slowly, wondering why the kid was glaring at him.

“Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they’re distracted, you stand a chance. Got ammo?”

“Hang on,” he said dropping the receiver. Harry watches as the cop checks the gun he took from the dead soldier and moves to look in the pockets of said soldiers uniform.

“Almost a full clip, more in that duffle bag I dropped out there. Can I get to it?” He asks when he’s finished looking.

“Forget the bag, okay. It’s not an option. What do you have?” For some reason a strange part of Harry’s brain wonders how old the person behind the voice is. He sounds young. He’s pulled from his wayward thoughts by the cops voice. “I’ve got a beretta with one clip, 15 rounds.”

 _Huh, dumbass must thing I have no weapons. That or he forget I’m here,_ he muses feeling oddly insulted. He’d learn not to underestimate Harry, they all do in the end.

“Make ‘em count. Jump off the right side of the tank, keep going in that direction. There’s an alley up the street, maybe 50 years. Be there.” The voice demanded.

Moving into action the cop freezes and goes back to the radio, “Hey, what’s your name?” Harry rolls his eyes so hard he almost blacks out.

“Haven’t you been listening? You’re running out of time!” The voice snaps.

Muttering something to himself the cop gets his gun out, his hand is on the lever to open the top hatch when he suddenly turns to Harry.

“You ready? Stay close, and stay behind me.” He orders.

Harry raises an eyebrow but the man is looking up at the hatch. He seems to take a deep breath before he flings the hatch open and climbs quickly out, Harry on his heels. On the way up Harry hears a thwack, his head poking out just in time to see the walker go over the tanks side; standing on the edge of the tank with the cop Harry quickly and quietly pulls his katana out, seeing the kid beside him Rick jumps from the tank and Harry poorly hides a wince when the cop lands on his ankle wrong and goes down. Jumping he lands in a crouch beside the fallen cop covering him as he scrambles to his feet. On his feet again the cop fires at a couple close walkers and starts running, Harry on his heels; shooting at the dead in front of them the cop clears the way toward the alley as Harry strikes out at the ones that come up on their sides. He realizes they’ve reached the alley when the cop takes a sharp right turn Harry barley stopping himself from running into his back as he hears someone exclaim, “Whoa! Not dead! Come on, come on!” As the guy takes off down the alley he looks over his shoulder to make sure their following.

“Back here!” He yells. As they follow him down the alley Harry can hear the cop shooting at the quickly advancing mob behind them. He’s just starting to get worried when the guy suddenly stops at a ladder and stars climbing. Sheathing his katana Harry follows and once he’s out of reaching distance he looks back and sees dumbass still on the ground out of ammo and watching the herd approach.

“What are you doing? Come on!” They're rescuer yells.

All three climb till the young man in front of Harry pulls himself onto a utility platform, panting. Once safely on the small platform he can finally get a good look at they're rescuer; who’s flat on his back panting, he’s a young Asian guy in his early 20s, with short black hair covered by a baseball cap. Ignoring his companions Harry looks down at the massive pit of walkers surrounding the bottom of the ladder.

“Nice moves there Clint Eastwood, you to Samurai. You the new Sheriff, come riding in to clean up the town?” The asian guy snarks as he pulls himself to his feet. Harry snorts.

“Wasn’t my intention, no.” The cop groans as he leans against the railing.

“Yeah whatever yeehaw. You’re still a dumbass,” they’re rescuer breaths. Harry couldn’t help the loud snort that came out. “See even the kids agrees.” The cop just shakes his head in response, before holding out his hand,

“Rick. Thanks,” Rick says. _Better than calling him ‘the cop’ or ‘dumbass’,_ he thinks wryly.

“Glenn. You’re welcome,” Glenn responds shaking his hand. He casts a look at Harry, “What’s your name?”

Harry just raises a brow before looking down at the walkers gathered around the ladder. They seemed to have doubled.

“Oh no,” Glenn groans. All three look up at the ladder that continues straight up the building for several stories with no other platforms in sight.

“The bright side;” Glenn says as he begins climbing. “It’ll be the fall that kills us.” He half shrugs, “I’m a glass half full kind of guy.”

 _Aren’t we all,_ Harry thinks before following Glenn up the ladder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Reaching the roof they walk across a plywood bridge someone made that connects this roof to the neighboring one. “Are you the one that barricaded the alley?” Rick asks.

“No, but somebody did-guess when the city got overrun whoever did it was thinking not many geeks would get through.” Glenn says as they stop at a hatch leading into the building he guesses. When Glenn lifts the hatch Harry sees the top couple rungs of a ladder, then nothing as the rest are swallowed up by the darkness.

“Back at the tank. Why’d you stick your neck out for us?” Rick questions.

“Call it foolish, naive hope that if I’m ever that far up shit creek, somebody might do the same for me. Guess I’m an even bigger dumbass than you.” Glenn says entering the hatch and climbing down. Harry climbs in after him as Rick brings climbs in and shuts the hatch, pitching the small tunnel into complete blackness.

Once on the ground, Harry notices they’re in a small back lot behind some stores. Glenn stops at the corner and peaks around it before talking into his radio.

“I’m back and I got a couple of guests,” peaking around the corner again he whispers, “Got four geeks in the alley, we’ll move in five.” Harry watches as Glenn counts to five under his breath before he starts moving. At the same time two men in riot gear exit the building with baseball bats and quickly start beating the walkers back long enough for the trio to get past and enter the building safely. They enter what seems to be the bottom level of a department store, immediately upon Rick’s entrance a blond woman started yelling, her gun leveled at his face.

“You son of a bitch I ought to kill you,” she growls angrily pushing him back against a glass display case. Casting a quick look at the group around him he sees none of them look worried, so either this happens all the time, or she isn’t going to follow through with her threat. He’s leaning more towards the latter. Crossing his arms he steps back out of the way of any potential gunfire just in case.

“Chill out Andrea, look you’re scaring the kid.” A Hispanic man says as he takes off the helmet of his riot gear. The woman, Andrea, lowers her gun and turns to look him. Harry nods in greeting.

“Sorry about the kid, but this idiot just killed us,” she snarls moving her gun to aim at Rick once more. Harry leans against a display case and watches.

"Either shoot him or give it up Andrea." The hispanic man snaps.

“We’re dead, all of us, because of you.” Andrea’s voice cracks and Harry can tell she’s fighting back tears. In his first life he probably would have tried to comfort her; tell her everything will be okay. But he’s not the same person anymore so he remains silent.

“I’m not following.” Says Rick speaking for the first time since they entered the building.

“Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, not shooting up the streets like it’s the O.K. Corral,” the hispanic man snaps. Harry snorts and fights a smile.

“Every geek for miles around heard you popping off rounds.” A black man in riot gear throws in.

“You just rang the dinner bell.” Andrea sighs.

While they were talking they’ve led Rick and Harry through to the front of the building. Outside the plate glass entrance to the store, the dead are banging and pushing into it. The weight of so many bodies pressing on the glass has made spiderwebbing fractures appear. Harry rolls his eyes at Rick’s shocked face, _what did he think would happen?_ He grumbles to himself.

“Get the picture now?" Asks the middle age black woman. One of the walkers had begun using a rock to beat the glass with. Ignoring the walkers the group makes introductions as Rick introduces himself. The black woman-Jacqui-takes a step towards harry and asks for his name, he’s debating writing it down when Rick speaks up,

“He doesn’t seem to talk.”

As everyone turns to face Rick, Andrea asks, “Wait you mean he isn’t your son?”

Rick shakes his head, “I found him hiding out in a tank, he saved my life when I was trapped under it.”

As everyones attention turns to Harry he tenses, instantly on edge. He doesn’t have to look at their faces to see the pity and confusion aimed at him.

“Sweetie, were are your parents?” Jacqui asks gently taking a step towards him. Taking a step back he just looks at her. “It’s okay no one is going to hurt you,” he can feel his lips quirking on their own.

After a few minutes of silence Rick says, "Like I said he doesn't seem to talk."

"Shock maybe,” Jacqui quietly says, as the group continues to stare at him. One thing Harry had taken from his previous life was his strong aversion to being the center of attention.

“I think he just doesn’t like speaking.” Glenn cuts in.

Frowning at him Jacqui asks, “Do you have a group you’re with?” Harry shakes his head.

“Parents?” Andrea asks.

Again Harry shakes his head. Before the uncomfortable silence can last too long it’s blessedly broken, “What were you trying to do out there anyways?” Morales asks. He saw how uncomfortable the kid was with all the attention. Knowing what Morales was doing Harry gave him a slight nod in thanks.

“I was trying to flag down the helicopter,” Rick stated as if it should be obvious. Everyone just stared at him.

“Helicopter? Man that’s crap. Ain’t no damn helicopter.“ T-Dog snapped.

“You were chasing a hallucination, imagining things. It happens.” Jacqui says not unkindly.

“I saw it.” He insisted. The group ignored him as they turned to T-Dog,

“T-Dog try the C.B. see if you can contact the others,” Morales asked.

As T-Dog did as requested Rick spoke up. “Others? The Refugee Center?” Harry could see the hope fill him up, he almost- _almost_ -hated to burst his bubble. The majority of the group around them snorted but surprisingly it was Jacqui who spoke.

“Yeah the Refugee Center, they’ve got biscuits waiting in the oven for us.” Harry fought a smile, he was beginning to like her.

“No signal. Could try the roof?” T-Dog looked up from where he was fiddling with the radio. As soon as the words left his mouth, gunshots sounded from above them.

“Dammit, is that Dixon?” Andrea groaned. The group hurriedly made their way up a small staircase to the roof access door, Harry following slowly behind them. He’s the last one on the roof and leans against the doorframe as he watches everyone berate the idiot with the gun. Merle, he hears Andrea call him: suddenly bursts into action shoving the rifle backward into Morales stomach making the man stagger backward, he watches Rick try to help T-Dog but gets knocked down when Merle back hands him. Dropping the gun Merle punches T-Dog; straddling him as he rains down punches. As T-Dog tries to sit up Merle aims his handgun at his head forcing the man-and everyone besides Harry-to freeze.

“Yeah! All right! We’re gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge. I vote me. Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time y’all; show of hands, all in favor?” Merle waits, when nobody moves he says, “Come on, let’s see ‘em.” He waves the gun as he stand up. Jacqui and Glenn move to help T-Dog sit up, Andrea and Morales stand behind them. “All in Favor?” Merle asks again. Morales lifted his hand first followed by Glenn and Andrea, while Jacqui lifts her middle finger at Merle. Harry is beginning to like her more and more. T-Dog raises his hand last,

“Yeah, that’s good,” Merle continues. “Now that means I’m the boss, right? Yeah. Anybody else? Hmm anybody?” Merle snarks. Harry who’s been quietly watching everything scoffs.

Merle turns to face him and Harry just stares unblinkingly. “You got a problem you little shit?” Merle snarls. Harry smirks and nods, before pointing behind Merle; when he turns to look he gets the butt of the rifle he dropped earlier slammed into his face. _Don’t drop a gun in a fight_ , he sings to himself his shoulders silently shaking. This is the most he’s been entertained since he left Death. He couldn’t help but think of how entertaining Death would find this too, after all Harry got his snark and sass from the Reaper. You couldn’t spend two centuries with someone and _not_ pick up a few things.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by yelling, he sees Merle is now handcuffed to a pipe and is swearing up a storm at ‘Officer Friendly’ as Rick introduced himself. As everyone ignores Merle and starts talking he tunes them out and sits with his back against the roofs ledge wall. He starts cleaning the blood from his katana as Rick picks up a small baggy from Merle’s pocket and throws it over the roof, ignoring said mans racial and derogatory slurs.

 _Why would you do drugs than go into a city that belongs to the dead_. Shaking his head he puts his now clean katana back in its sheath and gets his sketchbook out of his backpack. He’s not sure how long he’d zoned out for, but he was broken out of his artistic reverie when a few raindrops smudge the charcoal on the page, confused he looks up to see one of those sporadic rain showers that Atlanta seems to have. He sees the group watching something on the street below. As the rain picks up he puts his pad away and stands, stretching, hopefully he wasn’t distracted for too long. He jumps slightly at the loud cheering from the group.

“They made it,” T-Dog exclaims.

Confused Harry looks over the railing and sees a box truck driving away. “Yeah but where are they going?” Andrea asks worriedly.

“They’re leaving us,” Jacqui hysterically says. He must have missed a lot while he was drawing, he’s in the process of walking over to see what he’d missed when the piercing sound of a car alarm filled the air.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Morales yells as everyone runs toward the door. Harry’s about to follow when Merle starts shouting, T-Dog pauses for a minute and hurriedly makes his way back to Merle. In his haste he trips and drops something, from the way Merle was shouting and T-Dog was apologizing he guessed it was the key to Merle’s cuff. Harry can see the panic and sorrow on the black mans face as he runs to the door; looking at Merle pulling on his cuff, he curses his ‘saving people’ thing as Hermione always called it. Even after two centuries he still had the urge to help people in trouble, but it was also descent human behavior to not leave someone chained to a roof; no matter how much of an asshole they were. As Harry made his way to Merle he jerks at the sudden sound of chains against a door, turning he heads towards the door instead and pulls on the handle. It doesn’t budge. Pulling again he hears the rattle of chains, T-Dog must have chained the door shut. And not a moment too soon since Harry could hear the groaning and banging as walkers made their way up the stairs and suddenly converged on the closed door, he hoped T-Dog got out and didn’t get trapped by the dead. He knew they’d be back, Rick had the same ‘saving people thing’ Harry had, plus his conscience wouldn’t let him leave a ‘helpless child’ and a handcuffed man trapped on a roof.

Moving away from the door he goes and sits across from Merle, who was still shouting and cursing. Rolling his eyes he kicks the handsaw Merle was reaching for away, didn’t the dumbass know the smell of blood would make them more aggressive; if his shouting didn’t bring more down on them that is. It was times like these-also when people were being idiots-when he was tempted to start speaking again. He was wishing, not for the first time that week that he still had his magic but shook the thought away before it could take root. Death had taken his use of magic before he sent Harry to this screwed up world, Death had explained his reasoning and as much as he hated to admit it, it made sense. Death was sending him to a world where magic didn't exist, and Harry having his magic would have thrown the delicate balance of this world off. Sighing he leans back on the ledge wall and tries to block out Merle’s cursing and pleas, he’s just glad it stopped raining.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 10-25-19


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone I'm really sorry this took so long. When i started this story I told myself I wasn't going to be one of those authors who starts and doesn't post for months. I had this chapter written and ready to publish when I lost it all. That sucked ass and it was my favorite so I've been rewriting it but I've been dealing with some medical stuff, doctors visits, etc. But I will be working on the new chapter tonight.  
>  
> 
> Thank you for all of your support the comments never fail to make me smile.
> 
> Now it may be awhile before I post but thats because I want to get some chapters ready so y'all don't have to wait so long.

 

 

 

* * *

 

The run to the box truck was wild, hurried, and adrenalin fueled.

“Go, go, go,” yelled T-Dog as he leaped into the back of the truck, slamming the rolling door shut. Seconds later the truck squealed away. A group of walkers descending on the spot the truck disappeared from, a few trying to follow. As everyone tried to catch their breath, Andrea breaks the silence.

“What happened, I thought you where right behind me?”

“I dropped the damn key,” T-Dog huffed trying to catch his breath. “But I managed to chain the door so the geeks can’t get at ‘em.”

Rick looked in the rear view mirror trying to find the kid. Unable to spot him he stops the truck and turns around to fully look in the back, looking from face to face.

“Where the hell is the kid?” Rick snaps. The group looked around them, just now realizing he wasn’t there. In the rush to escape no one had checked to see if he had followed.

Jacqui’s dark skin paled suddenly as she asked, “Did we leave him! I thought he was behind us!” Andrea put her arms around the shaking woman, she felt sick to her stomach; she hadn’t thought to check and see if the kid was following or not.

“I didn’t see him at all, do you think he’s on the roof or that…?” Morales asked trailing off.

“If he’s on the roof the walkers can’t get him or Merle, I chained the door. That’s gotta count for something right?” T-Dog asks, everyone could hear the guilt and panic in his voice.

“We’re going back,” Rick states, about to turn the truck around. He stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder, it was Morales.

“We can’t go back, not tonight. That place was overrun and it’s gonna be dark in an hour or so. We also have nothing to break the chain with,” Morales moved into the passenger seat so he can face Rick better, “we go back there tonight, and we're dead." He states taking a breath before continuing. "We go to camp, and in the morning we get the bolt cutters from Dale and go and get 'em. Hopefully the swarm around the store will have dispersed some.” Morales finishes. It was a few tense minutes before Rick reluctantly nodded, he knew he was right, waiting till tomorrow was their best and smartest bet.                                                                                              

Rick had been driving in silence for 20 minutes before Morales spoke again, “Best not to dwell on it. That kid is strong, he was in the city by himself and he managed to save you. Merle, Merle got left behind. Nobody’s gonna be sad that he didn’t come back.. Except maybe Daryl." He admits reluctantly.

“Daryl?” Rick questions.

“His brother.” Morales responds. Rick sighs and they continued the drive in silence.

 

                                                           

* * *

 

                                                                            

By the time Rick got the box truck up to the quarry, the alarm from the car Glenn had driven had already stopped. Rick stayed put as everyone filed out, he was a mix of emotions: sad for leaving the kid behind, hopeful that Carl was here, angry that Lori might be here. The thought of Lori brought him up short, darting his eyes around the truck he sighs and rests his head on the steering wheel. "Damn." He swore. He had forgotten the divorce papers where in the bag he dropped in Atlanta.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Morales calling for him to come and meet everyone. Sighing he exited the truck and walked toward the small camp.

The setting sun was directly in Rick’s eyes as he walked, so he kept his head tilted down. He had also dropped his hat in Atlanta too, _God what didn't I leave there._ He gripes to himself. His head snapped up at the cry of, “Dad! Dad!” Rick was frozen as his son ran towards him. With a strangled cry of disbelief, Rick met his son half way scooping his not so little boy into his arms. He dropped to his knees when his shoulder sent a jolt of pain through him. He felt the tears fall as he rocked his son in his arms.

After only a few moments of Rick hugging his son he stood up, Carl’s arms an iron band around his waist. He caught sight of Lori, standing frozen with a look of disbelief on her face. He may be pissed off and hurt by her cheating on him with his best friend, but she was still the mother of his child and she had kept him safe. So, when Lori unfroze and jogged towards them Rick hugged her stiffly for a moment before pulling away. He ignored the hurt and confused look on her face. Her face said it all, this wasn't the reunion she was expecting. He saw Shane out of the corner of his eye he looked a mix between happy, shocked, and guilty.

Carl was talking a mile a minute about everything that had happened, while pulling him into camp. He was interrupted by Lori.

"Wha-Rick,"

Stopping Rick sighed he was doing that a lot today. He really didn't want to have this discussion with her in front of everyone especially not in front of Carl.

"Hey bud why don't you and your friends go inside the Rv and play while I talk to your mom," Rick saw the fight Carl was going to put up. "I'm not going anywhere, promise. I'll come join y'all as soon as I'm done, yeah?

Looking entirely unhappy Carl and three other kids went inside the Rv, while he faced his confused wife. Ex-wife he thought. He waited until the Rv door was shut behind them before he turned to Lori; who was only three steps away from him.

Before he could open his mouth Lori spoke, thankfully in a low voice, "Rick what's going on, why are you acting so cold towards me? I-we thought you were dead but you're here and alive and I-I would think you'd be overjoyed."

"I am-"

"Your not acting like it." Lori snaps cutting him off.

Running a hand through his hair he's glad he sent Carl away. He can see Lori losing her calm and he's not far behind her. He's never liked losing his temper when they argued, which had seemed to be more and more frequent in the weeks before he got shot.

"Lori I really don't want to do this in front of everyone."

Rick can see the moment she snaps, "Do what! What Rick I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"I know Lori I know about everything okay? I know about the divorce papers and I know about you and Shane!" Rick doesn't care about their audience anymore. All he cares about is how his ex-wife's face is slowly turning turning red.

"I-we though you were dead, the papers were before everything happened! We were fighting so much and I thought- it doesn't even matter what I thought. But we thought you were dead, I thought I'd never see you again. That Carl would grow up without his dad. It didn't mean anything it was just comfort-"

Rick snorts loudly cutting her off mid sentence. He can see Shane's face go white from Rick's declaration, then red when Lori says it didn't mean anything. Rick wasn't stupid he knew Shane was in love with Lori in high school he just thought he got over it. Hell they'd been married for over 13 years he wonders how long they'd been sleeping together. He was surprised Shane wasn't getting in the argument.

"I'm so sorry Rick I never wanted to hurt you. We were fighting so much and I was miserable."

"So you slept with my best friend and signed divorce papers 2 weeks before I was shot and didn't tell me?" Rick said sarcasm thick in his voice.

Lori's eyes went wide, Rick was sad to see there was no guilt in her face, only shock, anger, and embarrassment.

"Wait a minute, you never told him about the divorce papers?" Shane asked looking at Lori anger on his face. She had told him she was leaving Rick for him. "She told me you knew about the papers."

Lori was looking between the two of them. Face white she opens and closes her mouth but no words come out. "Wow, you two really deserve each other." Rick shakes his head walking away. As he passed Morales he heard the man mutter, "Regular TV drama around here.” Rick was inclined to to agree.

Opening the door to the Rv he saw the kids playing a game. "Hey guys, do you uh, mind if I talk to Carl alone for a bit?" The three kids nod and exited the Rv. Rick had just sat down beside Carl when he blurted out, "You and mom are getting a divorce?" Rick sighed he didn't want Carl to hear their fight. “Not exactly bud. See we don’t have courts or anything anymore so, me signing those papers made us divorced,” Rick explained. “I don't want you picking sides, and nothing between you and your mom, or you and I is going to change. Got it? The only thing thats going to change is that I won't be sharing a tent with your mom.” Rick explained, he smiled when Carl nodded.

"Wanna beat me at War?" He asked nodding to the playing cards on the table. Carl smiled.

       

                                                                                                                                                      

* * *

 

Waking up the next morning found Rick alone in the tent Andrea and her younger sister Amy gave him. When he protested the sisters told him they didn't need it since they slept in the Rv with Dale. Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, he saw Carl's cot empty, the blankets all twisted. Carl didn't want to part from Rick last night and with huffing on Lori's part he slept in Rick's tent. With a yawn he dressed in the clothes he borrowed from Jim until he could get his washed. Squinting into the brightness he sees Carol hanging up clothes. He'd met almost everyone last night and found the woman nice, but very quiet.

"Morning," he greets.

“Morning,” she says quietly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"I did." He was about to ask if she'd seen Carl around when she says,

“They're a bit damp, but the sun should dry them no time.”

Confused he looks to the clothes she hanging and sees his police uniform on the line. "Wha-" looking over his shoulder at his tent, he realizes she must have gotten his clothes and washed them for him. "You washed my clothes?" He asked dumbly. At her nod he stutters out, "Thank you, very much ma'm."

"I had to do my family anyway." She says shrugging off his thanks.

After Carol told him she hadn't seen Carl, he walked over to the group sitting around the fire pit. "Morning, has anyone seen Carl?" He asks sitting down on an empty fold out chair. "He's off playin with Sofia," Dale responds handing him a bowl of beans, he takes it with a nod.

“Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind,” Dale says, taking away Rick's appetite.

“I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me,” T-Dog says.

“I cuffed him. That makes it mine. I already planned on going back for them.” Rick rebuffs setting his bowl on the grate over the fire.

Glenn spoke up, “Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.”

“I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him,” T-Dog said in a self-sacrificing manner.

“We could lie,” Amy offers. Her sister shoots the idea down,

“Or tell the truth. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us all killed. You did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, its nobody's fault but Merle's,” Andrea claims.

“And that's what we tell Daryl? I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise… We're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt." Dale sighs before realizing something; "What you mean ‘them’?”

“There was a kid, about Carl’s age. He saved my life. He's real quiet, doesn’t seem to speak. In the frenzy he got left behind on the roof.”

“I was scared and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it. I didn’t realize he hadn’t followed,” T-Dog admits.

“We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?” asked Andrea.

“I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. Not enough to break through that… Not that chain, and padlock. My point… Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. If the kid was up there when the glass broke he’s alive to and that's on us,” T-Dog confesses.

“I’m going back, I won’t leave them on the roof. If no one wants to come that’s fine, I’ll do it alone. I might not like Merle but i’m not leaving him and that kid on that roof. Plus I dropped a bagful of guns they would go a long way for security around here,” Rick states.

Nobody had the chance to respond as Shane drove up, “Water’s here. Remember to boil it before you drink.” The discussion seemed to be finished for now.

Rick was finishing eating his forgotten beans when a chorus of screams startles him. "Mom, Dad!" “Mama!”

Rick dropped his bowl and ran with the others towards the woods. Catching a bat Glenn tosses him. When they break through a small clearing, Lori was the first to reach Carl, an empty bucket on the ground beside her. “Nothing bit you, scratched you?” Rick demands as Sophia leaps into Carol’s arms. Both kids shake their heads, he hears Lori repeating "I've got you, I've got you." To Carl.

Leaving the kids Rick, Morales, Jim, Shane, Glenn, and Dale continue through the woods a few feet till they burst into another smaller clearing and see what made the kids scream. On the ground less than four meters away is a walker feasting on a fallen deer with two arrows stuck in its side. Suddenly the walker turns and looks up at them snarling. Before it can even move, its surrounded and everyone is hitting it. Finally Dale strikes his axe across the back of its neck beheading it. The head rolls and Dale has to turn away.

“That’s the first one that we’ve had up here. They’ve never come this far up the mountain,” Dale says.

“They're running out of food in the city,” answers Jim. They hear a branch snap and footsteps. As one they turn looking for the next threat. A man wielding a crossbow comes out of the forest, stopping when he sees the group with raised weapons. “Oh, Jesus,” Dale says under his breath.

“Son of a bitch. That's my deer! Look at it all gnawed on by this… filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!” The man says angrily as he kicks the body of the walker.

“Calm down, son. That's not helping,” Dale says trying to placate him.

“What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘on golden pond’? I've been tracking this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison.” The man begins pulling his arrows out before turning to Shane,

“What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?” He asks.

“I would not risk that.” Shane responds and Daryl sighs.

“That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel… about a dozen or so. That'll have to do,” Daryl says. Suddenly, the head of the Walker starts to gnash its teeth.

“Oh god,” Amy groans, trying not to vomit. Rick didn't even hear the girls come up behind them.

“Come on, people. What the hell?” Daryl asks before he stabs it with one of his arrows. “It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?” Daryl and the group begin making their way towards the camp. Daryl calling out for his brother, while Shane tries to stop him to talk before bluntly stating what happened to his brother. He seems calm for a moment before throwing his squirrels at Rick and tackling Shane. They tussle before Shane gets him in a choke hold.

“Now I’d like to have a calm discussion about what's going to happen. Do you think we can do that?” Rick asks bending so he's eye level with Daryl.

“Yeah we can do that,” snaps Daryl glaring at Rick.

“What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others,” says Rick as Shane lets him go.

“It's not Rick's fault. I had the key. I dropped it,” said T-Dog trying to take the heat off Rick.

“You couldn't pick it up?” Daryl asks sarcastically.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain,” T-Dog admitted.

“If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't,” spits Daryl.

“Well, maybe this will. Look, I chained the door to the roof… So the geeks couldn't get at him… With a padlock. It's gotta count for something,” said T-Dog.

“Hell with all y'all! Just tell me where he is so that I can go get him,” Daryl yells.

“He'll show you. Isn't that right?” Lori asks sarcastically looking at Rick.

“I'm going back,” said Rick. “Your brother wasn’t the only one left behind, there's a kid with him.”

“Kid got a name?” asked Daryl calming down now that he knows they're going to get Merle.

“He doesn’t speak so he didn’t give us a name,” Rick admits.

“Don’t fucking blame him,” Daryl mumbles moving towards his tent. Rick sighs and turns to Dale.

“Can you tell him we leave in a few hours? I’ve gotta go talk to my kid,” asks Rick. Dale nods and Rick walks off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8-26-19


	6. If Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read, commented, kudos'd, and bookmarked. It means the world to me when i get emails saying I got a new Kudos or a new comment. This is my first ever attempt at fan fiction and the response has blown my mind. Thank you everyone.

* * *

 

 

Harry would give anything for a few rolls of duct tape right about now. You’d think the redneck idiot would have gotten the hint by now that he wasn’t going to talk, or help him out of his much deserved predicament. The man constantly begged, threatened, or bargained with a silent Harry and he would have _loved,_ to slap on a few pieces of industrial strength duct tape right on the asshole’s mouth. _Ah if only,_ he thought to himself. He had rolled him over a bottle of vitamin water and tossed him a granola bar. He wasn't stupid enough to just hand them to him, he knew if he got close enough that Merle might get one of the blades he had on his body and really threaten him to help.

The walkers had given up sometime during the night-when Merle had finally shut up-wondered off to God knows where. He wasn’t surprised, they liked loud sounds and Harry had been woken by far-off screams and gun shots sometime during the night. It was just after noon, almost a day since they had been left behind and Harry was starting to get bored. That was something he'd never thought he'd say during the apocalypse. He had repacked the tool bag that had been spilled in the chaos yesterday, he considered taking a nap but damn Dixon wouldn't shut the hell up. So he blocked out the yelling idiot and decided to sketch Merle.

He'd only been drawing for half an hour when he heard footsteps and the metal chain on the door rattle. Shooting a quick look at Merle-who was watching the roof access door with a blank face-he Jogged to the door and quickly and quietly pulled his katana out and stood just beside the door when it burst open. Harry had the first guy on his back with a swift kick to his knees, his katana blade at his throat and his gun pointed at the people inside the doorway.

“Fuck,” said Daryl seeing the tip of Harry’s blade stop inches from his throat. Seeing it was cop he saved yesterday he put his gun back in its holster as the he spoke.

“Whoa It’s alright kid,” Rick exclaimed. “He’s with us.” Harry stepped back giving no indication he had heard Rick except to sheath his blade before walking towards where Merle was chained, the four men following behind. T-Dog picked up the packed tool bag as he passed putting the strap over his shoulder as Daryl moved toward Merle with the bolt cutters, but Harry had already knelt down beside the cuffed man; shooting a smirk at Merle he pulled out two thin pieces of metal from his boots and he went to work on the locking mechanism of the cuffs. When he heard the click he backed away quickly in case Merle got pissed at the fact that Harry could have freed him almost twenty-four hours ago. Merle rubbed at his wrist as he watched Harry with, was that   respect in his eyes? Harry was amused, he had left the man chained up for a day and a night and now the man respected him for it. _These people are weird._ He thought.

“Brother, remind me never ta piss the little demon off,” Merle said. Daryl rubbed the back of his neck hiding a smile, as he tossed his crossbow over his shoulder.

“That little thing is fast, had me on my ass before I even knew we was fightin’.” Daryl remarked as T-Dog chuckled. Merle took offense.

“Think it’s funny do ya?” Merle asked moving forward. Rick moved to stop him but it was Harry that got in the middle, first ducking the punch Merle threw at T-Dog and kicking as hard as he could at the juncture between Merle’s legs. He went down clutching the family jewels with a drawn out fuck. Everyone was silent for a moment before Daryl started snickering at his brother’s expense.

“Hey Merle,” started Daryl.

“Fuck off,” Merle groaned.

“Don’t piss the little demon off,” Daryl finished, chuckling as Merle started to get to his feet.

“I said fuck off. Now can we get back ta camp? ‘Cause I’d really like ta sleep not chained ta a pipe tonight,” Merle complained.

“We have to get the guns first,” Rick stated.

“You got guns Officer Friendly?"

“A bag of ‘em, dropped ‘em in the street when I went down,”

“How the fuck are we supposed ta do that without getting our ass’s bit?” Merle snarked.

“For once I actually agree with Dixon. How are we supposed to get onto the street, get the guns and get out. Not to mention,” T-Dog inclined his head towards Harry who snorted and bent down grabbing his forgotten sketch book. Everyone but Merle watching him curiously.

“He drew in that damn thing the entire time,” Merle grumbled pulling the attention back to him; as the group began arguing about how to best get to the guns. Glenn came up with the idea of doing it alone; but wanted to go a few buildings over to get a more accurate depiction of were Rick dropped the gun bag, and how many walkers were on the street before coming back to the alley on this side since it was the easiest to cut walkers off in. The group began making a plan when Harry tugged on Glenn’s sleeve. He had decided unless there was no other choice he wouldn’t speak, it'd keep him from getting too close to these people.

Harry not only got Glenn's attention but the others as well. He handed his open sketch book to Glenn. "Wow kid," he whispered in awe. Seeing the others confused faces Glenn flipped the book over showing them an accurately drawn map of the streets below. Rick knelt down so he was at Harry's height before he spoke, "You drew that?" Harry nodded and fought off a grimace at the fatherly way the cop was staring at him. "Thanks kid this will help a lot." Rick considered him for a minute before he asked, "Can you tell us your name? Or write it down if that's easier?"

Trying not to sigh aloud he took his sketch book from Glenn and flipped a few pages before coming to the one of Rick in the tank and gesturing to the edge of the picture.

 _Harry_ was written in cursive at the bottom.

“Harry?” Rick read aloud. Harry nodded. “Thank you Harry. You're really good at drawing.” Harry shrugged and turned the pages before finding the map he had drawn. He ripped out the page and handed it to Glenn. While the others talked Harry backed away and looked at the now blank piece of paper that had replaced the one he tore out. This was the greatest gift Death had ever given him.

Soon enough they were all in the alley as Glenn went over the plan one more time. They told Harry to stay behind them and stay close, but he had a bad feeling so he slowly and silently shifted more and more towards the entrance of the alley to be closer to where Glenn would be if he had to help. Then Glenn was moving, Daryl realized too late that Harry was quickly following Glenn. He opened his mouth to call out but quickly closed it as he saw Harry put his blade through the head of a walker that got to close to Glenn.

Harry saw the beat up car peeling towards the guns, picking up speed Harry slid across the pavement like he was sliding onto home base; grabbed the bag and tossed it to Glenn-who saw the car heading straight for them- and ran back to the alley with Harry following a few feet behind him. Before Harry could reach the alley, the car swerves cutting him off as two latino men leap out of the car and try to grab him. Ducking he maneuvered his blade to swipe painful but superficial cuts on the two men. Someone in the car called out in Spanish and they two guys who tried to grab him leap into the car and sped off, tires squealing. Rick and T-Dog fired shots at the car, while Daryl and Merle killed the walkers the car attracted; and Glenn tried to catch his breath.

"Kid's got balls, and the moves to back 'em up," Merle praised as Rick pulls an unsuspecting Harry into a bone crushing hug. Letting out a yelp-the only sound he's made in years-Harry drops his katana on the ground as he freezes.

“Don't ever do that again.” Rick scolds pulling away and holding Harry at arms length. Harry just raises an eyebrow and Rick sighs.

 

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon by the time the box truck pulled into camp. Harry took it all in as he hopped out, people milling about almost all of them turning to looking at them. He noticed a man tied to a tree; he had a strong, almost magical feel about him and his aura was intriguing and slightly familiar to Harry. An older man in a grey fishing hat came up to Glenn, ruffling his hair and taking the tool bag from him. Harry watched Merle and Daryl walk off without a word to anyone. He saw a woman glaring at him-no, glaring at someone behind him. Confused he turned his head and saw Rick coming toward him with a kid around his-current-age.

"Harry, this is my son Carl." Rick introduced as Carl waved, a smile on his face.

"Dad said you don't speak, it's weird but okay. He said you draw too, can you show me? Your weapons are so cool were did you get them? How did you learn to use them?" Words poured out of Carl's mouth. A slightly taken aback Harry gently put his hand over Carl's mouth.

"Sorry," Carl mumbled behind his hand. Harry removed his hand giving the blushing kid a smile.

"Kid," Shane began as he walked over towards Harry. Everyone stopped they're conversations while they watch Shane approach the kid.

"His names Harry, Shane-" Rick began but was cut off,

"And you would know how? I thought he didn't talk?"

Rick raised his eyebrow at Shane's tone but decided to ignored it. "One of his drawings had his name on it, he showed us when I asked."

Harry knew this man would be trouble his aura all but showed it. A dark angry red with brown and black at the edges. He saw Carl step back instinctively and that pissed Harry off; he saw the man shoot a quick look at the women who was glaring at Rick earlier and was starting to understand. This man was a wannabe entitled alpha leader who thought everyone should respect him, and he wanted to impress her. Harry wanted to push his buttons _just_ to see him blow. Since his time with Death he developed an issue with authority, mainly assholes in authority.

"His name doesn't matter right now. He can't go around armed like he is, it ain't safe for everyone with an inexperienced kid armed like he is." Shane finished holding his hand out to Harry like he expected him to just hand over his weapons. Harry raised his eyebrow and raised his hand, and subsequently flipped him off. He saw Shane's face go red, heard Merle's snort and saw  Jacqui try to hide her smile.

“Shane,” the old man in the fishing cap called out.

“Not now Dale,” Shane snapped before speaking directly to Harry. “Here’s the deal kid, you hand over those weapons or,” Shane paused, “I take them from you.” Rick tried to step in but was stopped by a quick head shake from Daryl-who had come over when he saw Shane advancing on the kid. He wanted to see how this would play out, Daryl knew the kid could handle Shane-hell could handle all of them.-

“What’s it going to be kid?” Shane demanded. Harry rubbed his chin in thought before shaking his head. If only he would have asked him if he knew how to use them, Harry would have been more respectful. But like Hermione used to say _"Respect is_ _earned, not given."_  Shane reached out to grab him but Harry sidestepped him: Shane may be bigger but Harry was quicker and had the advantage of being underestimated. Andrea, Dale, and Morales moved to intervene but were stopped by Glenn who knew what Harry could do. Harry vaguely heard yelling from people who were trying to stop Shane and the fight but were held back or ignored.

"You little shit, your parents should have disciplined your disrespectful little ass," Shane growled as he lunged toward him. Harry dodged to the side and rolled forward ending in a crouch behind Shane. Harry had Shane right where he wanted him: Shane's back was about 5 inches away from the back of the box truck, when he whirled around to face Harry. Not wasting any time Harry flicked his wrist, a small throwing blade slid from his hand-he grabbed it when he rolled-and flew towards Shane, pinning his gray t-shirt to the box truck. The blade landing 3 inches from Shane's neck.

Everyone was silent as Harry stalked toward Shane and yanked the blade out of Shane's shirt and the truck. He could see the shock and anger at being bested by a kid all over his face; Harry had just showed that he couldn't be intimidated and he had the moves to defend himself. He started walking away when Shane spoke, "This ain't over kid." Rolling his eyes at the cliche comeback Harry broke his vow of silence. He didn't need too but it sure made him feel good,

"If I told you to go fuck yourself would you need directions?" He rasped as the group snickered or in Merle and Daryl's case laughed loudly. Turning away from Shane he continuing walking away. "And I never miss." He threw over his shoulder, his voice sounded like a chainsmokers from not talking for so long.

“You can talk?” Rick asked in surprised when Harry passed him. He didn’t answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on 9-3-19


End file.
